


Brotherly Bonding

by Askellie (NadaNine)



Series: SLAUE [10]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Biting, Bone lacing/binding, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Other, Overstimulation, Panic Attacks, Predicament Bondage, Sexual Slavery, Sibling Incest, Soul Sex, Unwilling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 03:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15161891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadaNine/pseuds/Askellie
Summary: Immediate sequel to 'Things which are worse'.Red discovers why telling Chara 'no' is a bad idea.





	Brotherly Bonding

Red sits back on his heels, looking anywhere but at his brother as Chara moves away to fetch something from under the bed. It’s the long box that stores the colourful assortment of ribbons and strings that Blue uses for Edge’s spine lacings. As Red watches, Chara pulls it open and rummages through it, humming cheerfully to themselves. Eventually they choose a thickly braided cord, holding it up for Red’s scrutiny.

“I think you’ll look good in purple, don’t you?” they ask sweetly.

Red almost winces at the width Chara’s chosen, but forces himself to nod compliantly. As punishments go, it’s hardly terrible, even though he knows from his brother’s reactions the lacing isn’t very comfortable.

Chara approaches, and Red leans forward, offering his tailbone for easier access. The human purrs in approval, one small hand stroking down Red’s spine with surprising gentleness.

“You’re usually so obedient,” Chara muses aloud, their fingers circling the holes on Red’s sacrum with interest. “I’m surprised. Does Edge really make you so nervous?”

Red knows better than to believe Chara’s actually expecting an answer. He stays silent, or tries to, but as Chara presses the tapered end of the cord into his pelvis and starts tugging it through he can’t help but make a soft noise. The inside of those holes are sensitive, and the cord can barely squeeze through. Chara has to yank firmly to keep it moving, and the abrasive braid rubs mercilessly against the bone. Chara isn’t using a needle the way Blue normally does either, so it feels very personal, the way their hands pull and tug against his pelvis. His soul clenches, and Red fights to stay still as Chara successfully threads a second hole and tightens the first notch of the binding.

He makes the mistake of glancing up, only to find his brother glaring at him, his expression one of outrage. Doubtless he’s ashamed of Red’s lack of resistance, or maybe the shameless way his soul is reacting to even a human. Red cowers further, feeling beyond mortified and completely unable to help the plaintive yelps of sound as Chara continues their work undeterred. As expected, the cord is incredibly uncomfortable. There’s a heavy, pinching feeling cross his sacrum that makes him discomfortingly aware of the interior of the pelvic inlet where the lacing pulls tight across the underside of the bone. He wants to reach down and relieve that distracting pressure, but he doesn’t dare lift his hands from the floor.

Finally Chara reaches the uppermost holes, and Red thinks that’ll be the end of it until the human briskly commands, “Give me your hands.”

Red balks uncertainly, hesitating too long to comply, so Chara simply grabs him by the humeri and yanks backwards until his elbows are nearly touching behind his spine. It’s more awkward than painful since skeletons don’t have ligaments, but the rough grappling leaves him too stunned and slow to realise Chara’s intention until he finds his wrists lashed together with the excess of the cord and bound firmly to the back of his sacrum.

“Uh…” Red balances uneasily on his knees, anxiety returning forcefully at the realisation that he no longer has the use of his arms. He tests the knot only to nearly knock himself breathless as the pressure through his sacrum is pulled even tighter, leaving him aching in a way that’s both pleasant and excruciating.

He’s keenly aware that he has no means of protecting his soul like this, and the fear is nearly paralysing. Chara’s pleased smirk appears in his field of view, astutely reading Red’s expression of horror. They giggle. “Don’t worry. Papyrus has told me how fragile your soul is. I won’t touch it. I’m just concerned…I like to see all the members of my household getting along well. Here I thought you and Edge were getting along just fine, but…”

They push meaningfully on Red’s back, forcing him back towards Edge. Red tries to resist as passively as he can, but his knees provide no friction against the tiled floor, and he just doesn’t have enough mass to make himself immovable. Even as a small human, Chara has a lot more physical matter and strength in their body. A pointed shove sends him toppling against his brother, over-balancing and unable to catch himself as he lands against Edge’s sternum with a yelp. He tries to scramble away but Chara’s knee is planted firmly against his back, pressing him even harder into his brother as Edge bucks beneath him with a muffled grunt.

“I’m sure you can learn to get along. You just need to get to know each other better,” Chara says. Red barely hears them. He’s still reeling, wondering if he should struggle as well or whether that would just make things worse. A yank on his collar nearly strangles him, and he squirms with all the pathetic futility of a hooked fish as Chara loops another length of cord between his throat and the magical suppressor. The other end of the cord is bound to Edge’s collar, effectively lashing them together with barely an inch of give to try and accommodate the compromising position.

“W-wait,” Red tries to object, yanking thoughtlessly at his wrists only to send another powerful jolt through the bindings on his sacrum. He gasps, trying to struggle upright and relieve the pressure,  but it’s nearly impossible with the way Edge is thrashing against him, the contact of his body rough and clumsy and too much, too fast–

Red shudders, a broken moan torn from his throat, and only then does Edge go still, eyes widening in comic realisation.

“See? Edge isn’t so bad, is he?” Chara asks with a trill of amusement. They’re pressing against Red’s back, a warm weight trapping him in the middle of two bodies, and Red pants fitfully trying to keep still and not grind shamefully against his brother.

He tries shutting his sockets to block the feelings out, but if anything it just makes the culmination of every place he’s being touched more overwhelming. He doesn’t even want to think of the way his soul is pulsing against his sternum, each jolt of friction only exciting it more. Warm, wet slickness is dribbling down the inside of his ribcage, and he knows it’s dripping everywhere, onto himself, onto his brother, onto the floor.

He wants to object. He might even beg, but every articulate thought has been purged from his mind and he can’t even remember how to form words because Edge’s pubic symphysis is locked against his own and the only horrible thought that occurs to him is that this is closer than he and his brother have been in years and it’s _wrong_ , it’s _so wrong_ , and he needs to make it stop but Chara is already reaching around him with another cord. Red can feel it slithering over his pelvis and tries to jerk back but there’s nowhere for him to go. Edge tries to recoil as well, snarling something incoherent through the gag, but his restraints are far more restrictive. The short tether between Red’s collar and his brother’s is too short for him to be able to twist his head and look down, but he can feel Chara’s clever hands winding the cord around and through their bones. He feels the cord clinch through each obturator foramen, around the pubic crest, and with a sharp tug he and Edge aren’t simply pressed together but bound together, bone and cord rubbing together with an intense friction that leaves Red whimpering.

“D-don’t,” he heaves, and has to pause for breath. His head is spinning. So is the room, all the details hazing over, his world reduced to nothing but the pressure on his body and the heat in his soul. He doubts the human even realises how brutal this is. Papyrus does; when he’s the one in control, he makes a point to go slowly and carefully, to keep the stimuli simple and focused, to coax Red to pleasure without complication. With his soul out, every touch is more potent, every emotion more devastating, and he can’t think past the crushing weight of guilt and helplessness and vile, all-consuming arousal.

He thinks Chara might be speaking again, gloating or mocking, but he can’t make any sense of the words. He presses his face into Edge’s clavicle, hiding as much as he’s able, trying to master his breathing to no avail. Dread has made his throat tight and his bones are rattling audibly. Even worse, he can feel the distress his soul is broadcasting starting to affect his brother, the echo of his panic mirrored in small, tight tremors as they both teeter on the edge of breaking.

“-don’t know why you were so nervous. Normally he’d be putting up a much bigger fuss than this,” Chara is saying, and desperately Red tries to focus on it. “Edge must really like you if he’s being so careful. Isn’t that nice, Red?”

The human is still pressed against his back, surprisingly heavy – he always forgets how much more physical mass humans have, relative to their size. He can feel Chara’s hand moving down between their ribs, stroking him and his brother in turn. Shudders of revulsion ripple through Edge’s frame. Red minds it less in principle – he’s grown inured to it, and in some ways humans are so dense in matter it’s almost like being touched by something inert, like a chair or a wall – but there’s nothing idle in the way Chara’s fingers squeeze and stroke along his ribs, slippery with soul fluid, skimming dangerously close to where Red’s soul is huddling beneath his sternum.

Chara’s fingers pause, hovering just over where his soul is hiding, and Red’s composure breaks, panic washing over him with full force because he can feel the intent percolating in Chara’s own soul; their dangerous curiosity.

They want to touch it.

“No!” Red gasps, wrenching violently. “Nonononono-”

His convulsion is enough to push Chara back, but not enough to snap him back to sanity. He twists, wailing in anguish when his collar abruptly yanks him up short, and distantly he can hear the sound of his brother choking but the cloud of terror is so thick he can’t control himself. Everything touching him is unrecognisable and unwanted, and when white bone passes too close to his face he reacts with savagery and bites down hard on the potential threat, tasting marrow and magic welling up beneath his sharp teeth.

Everything is a blur of agony, the worst of it radiating from his pelvis where the cord is twisting and chafing from his frantic movements, but along with the raw pain is an even worse ache of want that refuses to be ignored. Mindless, animal instinct makes his hips spasm, rutting crudely until tears of frustration and need are pouring from his eye-sockets. There’s no taming his maddened, desperate movements, and with each harsh thrust his soul sparks with light and fury, the pressure in his rib cage building until it feels as if his chest will burst.

When he comes it’s blinding, deafening, and worse than dying because his soul cries out, untouched but bereft of what should have been shared pleasure with another monster. It feels desolate and demeaning, and leaves him completely wrung out and purged of strength. Not even terror can persist through the powerful drain as his soul splutters and empties out the last of its fluid – the manifested reserves of all his magic now spent and pooling uselessly on the floor.

Red feels empty. It’s a sensation that’s lamentably familiar.


End file.
